Fragments of the looking glass
by bewareofdragons
Summary: The Spock from the mirror universe caused the first crack. Now back in his own universe, McCoy is left to pick the pieces up or slowly fracture into a thousand shards.
1. Our minds are merging

**Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or its characters. This is for entertainment and completely non-profit.**

 **Warning: Contains a non-consentual mind meld. May also contain profanity and implied violence.**

 **I am still new to this and learning where the lines between ratings fall. If you feel that this warrants an older rating, please feel free to PM me and let me know. If you don't tell me, I can't change it or learn.**

 **This story is inspired by the events of the TOS episode 'Mirror mirror' (contains spoilers). I had originally planned to submit it under TOS, but since decided that I preferred to set it in the reboot universe. The characters and faces just call to me more.**

Our minds are merging

McCoy had never been a religious man, instead choosing to live by his own set of morals and ethics. Leonard was an officer enlisted in Starfleet but his first and foremost loyalty was, and always would be, to himself and to those values. To him a patient was a patient; He refused to discriminate. It didn't matter if his patient was male or female, Vulcan, Andorian or human, from his universe or another.

The others had looked at him as if her was crazy when he'd asked them to help him get the other Spock onto the biobed. Maybe Leonard was crazy, but he was also a doctor, Dammit. He couldn't just stand there and let the man die, mirror universe or no mirror universe. Somewhere out there, his counterpart could be faced with the same situation. McCoy would hate to go back to their universe to find that their Spock was dead because he couldn't spare two minutes.

When he'd qualified as a Doctor, Leonard had taken a vow to do no harm. To him, a sin of omission was always just as bad as a sin of commission. By leaving Spock there to die, he might as well have been the one to hit him over the head in the first place. McCoy didn't think he would be able to live with the consequences, leaving the man there to die just to save his own ass. There were some lines in life that could be crossed but this was not one of them.

'Look, you get onto the transporter and make sure it's clear, I'll be there in five minutes.'

It didn't have to be an all or nothing situation. He still had time to fix Spock and make it to the transporter room in time for their return to the Enterprise. All the time they stood around arguing, time was being wasted. Every minute they argued was a minute he could have better-spent saving Spock's life. If he didn't hurry, he wouldn't have five minutes.

'No longer.' Jim's tone clearly said that he didn't like it but his friend knew him well enough to know that McCoy wasn't going to budge. The captain could have made it a direct order but their friendship would have never survived.

'I guarantee it.' McCoy agreed; he had no intention of getting stuck here on this barbaric ship. 'Now go on, please.' Leonard wasn't going to hang around any longer than necessary. It would take two minutes to stabilise Spock, just enough for the man to survive until his own physician could take over. McCoy would be fine.

Jim finally nodded, gesturing for Uhura and Scotty to go. The captain paused only to gently clap McCoy on the shoulder before following. The sickbay door slid shut behind them and Leonard was left alone with the mirror first officer.

Later, alone in his quarters, Leonard would regret his words. He wished he'd asked one them to stay but retrospect was a luxury he hadn't had. He was a doctor, not a fortune teller. He wasn't in the possession of a time machine either.

McCoy wasted no time in setting the dose on the hypospray then injecting it into the unconscious Vulcan. He let out a silent sigh as slowly each of the arrows on the monitor started to rise, displaying the stabilisation of Spock's vitals. The man would live.

McCoy was too busy watching the monitor to notice that Spock had woken. He should have had several more minutes before the drugs has had enough of an effect for the Commander to wake. _Damn copper-based blood, screwing up his calculations._ One minute the Vulcan was unconscious the next he was sitting on the biobed, tightly gripping McCoy's arm. The hand on his wrist was bruising.

The stare Spock gave him was so cold and logical. His face was completely emotionless, devoid from all the traces of expression McCoy had come to recognise from their own first officer. It was unsettling. Suddenly he was afraid.

'Why did the Captain let me live?' Spock demanded, his Slender fingers crushing McCoy's radius. Leonard panicked as he didn't know what to say. Who knew what this Spock would do if he learnt of the other dimensions, not just theirs but of Nero's as well. He pulled against the restraint but Spock's grip was too strong.

The other Spock, his Spock, was always so gentle, it was easy to forget what the first officer was truly capable of. It was easy to forget that even with his mixed heritage, the Vulcan was stronger, faster and in so many ways, evolutionarily better than plain old humans both in this universe and the other.

He instinctively took a step back but the Vulcan just came with him, forcing him backwards until there was no where else to go. The cold metal of the bulkhead was hard and unforgiving behind his back as Spock pinned him against it. McCoy was trapped, unable to move as the Vulcan raised his other hand. The fingers were like talons on a claw as they loomed over his face.

With a level of skill gained only from practice, Spock lay his pressed his finger tips strategically against the side of McCoy's face; one finger for each of the five major nerve clusters to the brain. M'Benga had once told McCoy that their finger tips had more sensory nerves than the inside of a dog's nose.

The touch itself was gentle but it could have been as rough as Spock liked for all McCoy cared. Vulcans were touch telepaths; he didn't want the bearded hob-goblin to touch him at all.

'Our minds are merging, Doctor.'

Leonard was frozen in place, unable to stop it. He could already feel it, an indescribable force fluttering against his thoughts. As Spock spoke, the force was pushing its way into his brain, burrowing into every corner.

'Our minds are one.'

 _No, Dammit._ Leonard screamed, trying to force the other Spock out. _Stop, Stop, Stop._ It didn't stop though; the more McCoy struggled, the more he pushed. The pressure was excruciating. it felt like his head was going to explode but Spock just kept pushing.

'I feel what you feel.'

Disjointed memories spun around in his head. Not his memories, Spock's memories. Memories from the other Spock's life, of the other Enterprise with the other Jim and the other Leonard McCoy. Everything was accompanied by emotions that weren't his own. There was more though, overlying it all, he could hear the other Spock inside his head, laughing. He was _enjoying_ it.

'I know what you know.'

McCoy couldn't help it. He could feel Spock rifling around, probing at his memories. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't _not_ think. _Stop_ , McCoy screamed over and over again, to himself and to Spock. He couldn't help the thoughts his fear dragged to the surface.

 _They didn't belong here._

 _Stop it!_

 _They needed to go home._

 _Stop!_

And just like that, Spock found what he was looking for.

 _Stop..._

The sudden stillness was disorientating; as soon as Spock let go, his legs crumbled beneath him.

Leonard came to on the floor, slumped against the bulkhead. The intense pressure was gone but he could still feel the Vulcan in his head, prying into his private thoughts. Echoes of the force, reading every secret as if it were just a book on a shelf. The delight the man had taken in forcing the answer out of him. The power and control he'd had over him.

McCoy felt sick.

Spock was talking to him but all McCoy could hear was those words.

 _Our minds are merging..._

Suddenly he was being roughly pulled to his feet and marched forwards. Just one foot after the other. It should have been simple but his legs felt like wet spaghetti. Only Spock's firm grip on his arm kept him on his feet and moving. Several times he stumbled but Spock each time the hands pulled him back upright. The corridors were a blur of missing memory. One minute they'd been in sickbay, the next they'd been in the transporter room.

McCoy blinked and then Spock was gone. Someone else had his other arm, Scotty maybe, and was leading him up onto the transporter pad. Spock was over there, talking to Jim. About what, Leonard did not care, he just wanted to get out of the damn hell hole, as far away from the bearded bastard as he could get.

It felt like ages before Jim finally stepped away. Surely they were running out of time? Wasn't that what Scotty had been telling them the entire time in sickbay? Then Jim was standing next to him and the transporter lights were swirling around them.

Just before they de-materialized, McCoy briefly picked that Scotty could have a mistake in the sequencing but suddenly the transporters didn't seem so bad any more. Then he realised that anywhere was better than there.

They were going home.


	2. Our minds are one

**Warning: Non-Consentual mind meld. Mild profanity. Implied Violence.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or its characters. This is purely for personal enjoyment, not profit.**

 **Sorry for the slow update. Hope you enjoy & review!**

 **Update 23/6/15 - Apologies for the no update in a while. My writers block decided to conspire with my exams resulting in one unfinished chapter. I haven't abandoned this, but I'm going to write and create some different stuff for a while until my block agrees to a truce.**

Our minds are one

They'd re-materialised on the transporter pad and as far as McCoy could see, they were back on their own Enterprise. Spock, clean shaven, had been there waiting and everything had been where it should be, just as McCoy remembered it. If it wasn't their Enterprise, dammit, it was damn near close.

Relieved to be home, it was easy to throw himself back into his work.

Many of the nurses skittered around him, treating him as if he was a rabid dog but his disgust at his counterpart's barbarianism had kept him focused. Leonard had been too busy with post-mission physicals on each of the away team, to check that there had been no ill-effects arising from their misadventure, and fixing the mess that his counterpart had created in his absence.

It wasn't as bad a Leonard had originally expected but Ensign Evans who wouldn't let the Doctor near her, no matter how much anyone tried to convince her. He didn't know what the other McCoy had done to Evans but Chapel had muttered something about inadequate pain management and his counterpart having a bedside manner that was non existent. Time and councelling would help but in the mean time, McCoy had handed the traumatised Ensign's care over to M'Benga.

Eventually McCoy had settled in his comfortingly familiar office and completed his report. He'd kept things short and brief, glossing over the attack, simply writing that the other Spock had worked out that they were from another universe and decided to help return them to their own ship. Nobody would question it; Jim rarely gave reports a second glance before signing off on them and Starfleet received thousands of reports every week. They didn't have time to check every little discrepancy.

When he'd handed the report in, he had laughed and joked with Jim and Spock on the bridge. It was instinctive to smile, to laugh at Spock's unintentional humour and compare experiences of the two encounters. Easier to pretend that nothing had happened.

It was later, when the relief of being home had worn off, he'd lain alone in his quarters without company or work to keep unwelcome thoughts away. The other enterprise seemed like a dream, or a nightmare, then. It was like it had never happened, except it had, and now McCoy wasn't sure if he was waking or dreaming. It didn't seem real, Dammit, Nothing did. He kept waiting for the ball to drop, to find that none of it was true, that they hadn't made it back and he was back in that hell hole.

For a while, sleep proved evasive. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the Vulcan inside his head. Invisible tentacles, clawing their way through his thoughts. Spock's words echoing in his head. Feelings, thoughts and memories that weren't his own cluttering up his mind every time he tried to clear it.

…..

Jim was dead.

 _Murderer._

Unmoving and not breathing. Eyes staring and unfocused. Dead by all terms and definitions. He wasn't coming back.

 _You killed him._

For the first time in days he could finally think clearly. He could see through the madness that had clouded his mind and poisoned his every thought. All that remained now was a single question.

 _Why?_

He'd challenged her afterwards, ordered her to explain.

Afterwards, he could not find fault in her logic but there was nothing logical about the emotional imbalances still running thickly through his veins. He had thought he had wanted to know the answer but now that he knew, he wished that he did not.

 _Having is not so pleasing thing after all as wanting._ It was not logical, but it was true.

She had played him and he had lost. She had him right where she had wanted him, where he could not win. They had arrived at a stalemate. He had killed his Captain for her and still she had had the audacity to defy him.

With that realisation, A cold fury had consumed him.

The only person he had ever found worthy enough of his loyalty was dead, by his hands, because of her. He could force her to be by his side. He had won the battle and by the rules, it was his right to her hand in marriage, but he would not.

Logic dictated that he should keep her close to him where he could keep an eye on her but she had been right that his debt to the Empire, it was unwise to keep her by his side if he could not trust her. She undoubtedly would betray him in a heartbeat.

He had won the battle but he could never win the girl. Besides, he did not want her now. She was spoiled, that scum had ruined her. She was no longer worthy of him.

While logic dictated that he not take her as his bride, the pair of them had made a fool out of him. She had rejected him, laughed in his face as she insulted both his manhood and his heritage. He could not let that slide.

His own people had made it abundantly clear long ago that he was not welcome among them, not with his heritage mixed with that of their oppressors. Now he had lost his place amongst the Empire too. He dared not to return to the ship lest the crew mutiny against his killing of their captain. He would undoubtedly not live to see his trial; there were many onboard who kill him the moment he started to re-materialise.

Instead, he followed them, hidden in the shadows. This was what he was good at, what he was trained to do. He watched and he waited, biding his time until eventually the opportunity was right.

As he raised the weapon, he looked down upon the sleeping couple, locked in their embrace. It was the same weapon that he had used to kill his friend. The irony had appealed to him on a deep level.

This was not the first time he had killed someone. He had killed hundreds by his hand, both directly and indirectly. Those had been orders though; this time was different. This time he was killing them because he _wanted_ to.

Jealousy, anger and rage; all emotions unbecoming of a Vulcan. Afterwards, he would blame it on insanity, the madness of the Plak tow still poisoning his once flawless logic. He'd been delirious from the fever.

Truth was, his mind was clear. His actions did have logic deep inside them. For the first time in days, he was calm. He had a purpose.

He knew what he had to do.

The pair of them had wanted so badly to be together, then they could die together. His human companions would have called it poetic justice. He was already a murdered, what difference would one, or even two, make?

If he could not have her, then no-one else could.

…..

Leonard startled awake. Rapid respiration, heart pounding in his chest.

Bile was already rising at the back of his throat. He bolted into the bathroom, barely making it over the toilet bowl before he started heaving. McCoy slumped back against the wall and shivered, cold from the sweat drenching his skin, tears streaming down his face.

 _It wasn't you, Dammit, it wasn't you._ Leonard reminded himself over and over to little avail. He could still see the blood staining his hands. He could feel the emotions that the other Spock had felt upon killing the lovers. The jealousy, the anger, the betrayal, the satisfaction. It was a common misconception that Vulcan's didn't, even couldn't, feel; they did, stronger than any human ever born, just suppressed and hidden under layers of logic and repression.

Despite there being nothing left, he felt sick to his stomach.

 _I know what you know._

Emotional transference was an effect of the meld but the knowledge didn't make McCoy feel any better though. Neither did the knowledge of the emotion and logic behind the actions. Emotions that had been strong, still recent in Spock's counterpart's memories. Overwhelming emotions he hadn't wanted.

McCoy crawled under the shower fully clothed, desperately scrubbing away at the blood that wasn't there. The scalding water burnt at his skin but still he could feel it, sticking to his hands and clothes.

 _I feel what you feel._

Emotions he hadn't wanted. Knowledge he'd have been better off not knowing.

Jim laying on the dusty ground dead. Two Vulcans slain in anger. In his mind, it feel like he'd been the one to kill them.

He scrubbed until his skin was raw, until the water burnt his skin, and still it wasnt enough. Those images and feeling were branded onto his brain, like cattle for the market. No amount of hot water could wash those images away.

 _Spock forcing his way inside his head._

Leonard had thought that coming back to the enterprise would be the end of it all, that he could just put it away in the corner and forget that it ever happened. That if ignored it, it would just roll over and go away.

He'd been wrong.


	3. I feel what you feel

**Warning: Non-Consentual mind meld. Mild profanity. Implied Violence.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or its characters. This is purely for personal enjoyment, not profit.**

 **Sorry it's been so long. The pieces just didn't want to join up. As always, please review! I hope you enjoy it.**

I feel what you feel

Eventually Leonard had admitted defeat. The nightmare had left him feeling unsettled and is quarters felt too empty and still. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, like there was someone there. It felt like they were standing just out of the corner of his vision and every time he turned, they vanished. Like Spock, in the dream, standing in the shadows.

 _Our minds are one._

Leonard wasn't going to sleep anymore that night.

The crewman assigned to the mess hall didn't spare him a second look. As Chief Medical Officer of a short staffed medical bay, he'd always kept long and odd hours. It wasn't unusual for them to see the doctor there in the early hours, following a difficult night.

After the nightmare, he hadn't wanted to be alone at the mercy of his tormented psyche. He'd hoped that being surrounded by people would help, only to find that it made things worse. Inside, McCoy felt numb. The whole room seemed surreal. It felt like he was there in the mess hall, only he wasn't actually there; it was like he was watching the world from far above.

Even at such at early hour, the mess hall was far from empty. He'd gone there seeking company but suddenly the idea didn't seem so appealing. Unfortunately neither did sitting alone.

His usual table was empty, too early for even the earliest risers of the senior bridge crew. He could probably sit at any of the occupied tables in the room if he asked but Leonard couldn't bring himself to do it.

There was too many people.

Several minutes passed before he finally had to come to a decision and sat down in his usual seat.

Eventually, the table slowly filled up around him. Every now and then, he would catch snippets but wasn't really paying attention to conversations the senior officers held around him. He wasn't exactly well known for being a morning person so his fellow officers took his silence as him being his usual grumpy self, largely leaving him alone.

The coffee was stone cold now, had been for a while, as was the congealing bowl of grits he'd replicated over an hour earlier. He'd roughly shoved it aside after just a few mouthfuls; the dish that usually brought him comfort, now seemed tasteless and unappealing.

'Good Morning, Doctor.'

 _Our minds are merging, Doctor._

The voice sent his blood cold.

Suddenly his heart was pounding in his chest as all the calm he'd managed to regain since waking dissipated out of the nearest airlock.

Spock sat down in his usual seat, the other side of Jim. Normally, it was fine but today, it was too close for his comfort. He didn't _want_ Spock that near to him. He didn't want the Vulcan so close, where Spock would have time to touch him before he could get away. In fact, Leonard didn't want the Vulcan there at all. McCoy tried to subtly shuffle his chair as far away as he could but it was still too close.

His heart was pounding so loudly, surely the whole table could hear it. The need to get out of there was overwhelming.

Jim and Spock were talking, or rather Spock was arguing that Jim's proposal lacked logic.

The other Spock had been logical to the core and utterly ruthless in it's application. His Spock could be too. McCoy had seen it, back during the Narada incident, when Spock had ordered Jim off the ship. That was what scared McCoy most, how similar the two first officers had been.

 _I know what you know._

It was irrational but All McCoy could hear was him, the other Spock. They both sounded just the same. The words, burrowing into his head.

Suddenly he wasn't hungry. He felt sick.

His chair scraped loudly across the deck. Jim looked up at him in surprise, cut off mid sentence. 'Bones, you've barely eaten.'

Leonard hastily mumbled an excuse about forgetting an early appointment as he hastily backed towards the exit, trying not to trip over anything on the way.

The distance from the mess hall to the turbo lift felt like miles. Slow, steady steps down the corridor, shrinking away from anyone who got too close for comfort. He only had twenty meters to go, then ten and five. Finally he was in the empty capsule and the doors were closing...

Before the doors could fully close, a hand darted into the gap to keep them open so that Ensign Ryde could slip inside the turbo-lift.

Leonard forced a small smile onto his face as he shuffled over as far as he could. The doors hadn't even closed yet and already he was feeling trapped. He should get out now, while he still had a chance. Then they were moving and there was nowhere he could run. It was too late.

The turbo-lift was too small. There wasn't anywhere he could go where the other man wouldn't be able to reach out and touch him if he wanted to. Ensign Ryde was staring at him and that was setting McCoy on unease. 'Are you alright, Doctor McCoy?'

Leonard choked out an 'I'm fine.' but didn't think either of them believed it. The box felt like a sauna. Were the walls shrinking?

 _I feel what you feel._

The air was suffocating. He couldn't breathe. Had the life support system broken? Were they running out of oxygen?

 _Calm down, you're hyperventilating._

McCoy knew Ryde was 100% human, having done the scans himself. There was nothing hidden, nothing to jump out at him and bite him.

The Ensign couldn't hurt a fly; Ryde grew lilies in his quarters, baked cupcakes on his weekends and messaged his mother religiously every week. He was a scrawny thing, still green around the gills from the academy and yet to have his naïve views on the universe shattered. Leonard could easily overpower him if he wanted to but his over-active paranoia wasn't having any of it.

 _I know what you know._

The doors couldn't have opened any sooner. He wasn't on the right floor, but McCoy needed out and he needed it now.

Leonard stumbled into the first bathroom he found. He forced himself to slow his breathing until the urge to throw up disappeared and he could see clearly. He splashed water over his face and stared at his face in the mirror.

 _Dammit._ He hadn't had a panic attack since the academy.

McCoy knew he should talk to someone but there wasn't any one he felt he could talk too. Talking meant actually admitting out loud that something had happened.

There was a war of opinions between the part of him that was a doctor and the part of him that was human. Fear was rational response, yet felt completely irrational at the same time. The knowledge didn't make him feel any better.

Leonard hated that Mirror Spock had gotten to him like that. It made him feel weak. He was the CMO, dammit. Every single person on board ship was a patient of his. He was the one who was supposed to fix things, not need fixing. He was supposed to be strong.

Besides, who could he talk too? Jim wouldn't listen, wouldn't take him seriously, would just tell him to go and talk to M'Benga or Chapel. Spock would listen to him but he was out too, for obvious reason's; how the hell was he going to talk to the guy when just the sound of his voice sent him into a full blown panic attack. No, he couldn't talk to Spock about the other Spock.

He'd wanted, so badly, to just put the whole thing behind him and forget about it.

McCoy was a doctor. though, he knew it didn't work like that. Traumatic events were never as simple to get over as that and what had happened to him was nearly as traumatic as they come. He just hadn't wanted to admit it.

Leonard broke out of his thoughts and looked at his watch.

 _Dammit._

He was going to be late for his shift.


	4. I know what you know

**So, so sorry it has taken so long to update. Life's been crazy lately, i can't believe how quickly its gone. It figures my muse would do a dissapearong act and then reappear when my first assignment was due; she always has had a taste for procrastination. Anyway, I hope it's worth the wait, please read and review!**

 **Please see Chapter 1 for warnings.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or its characters. This is purely for personal enjoyment, not profit.**

I know what you know

By the end of the week, Leonard was exhausted, the whole ordeal was taking its toll, both physically and emotionally. It had been days since he'd last eaten a decent meal that he hadn't thrown up later, even longer since he'd slept. He couldn't keep care of himself, let alone his patients.

If someone was to scan him with a tricorder, his blood pressure would, without a doubt, be through the roof. The ship had never felt so claustrophobic. It had never bothered him before but McCoy wanted to feel the wind against his face and the ground beneath his feet. Most of all, he wanted space to be able to _run._

The panic attack in the turbo lift had been the first in many; one day the mess hall, stuffed to the brim with people during the lunch rush hour had left him such a nervous wreck that the next day he'd chosen to simply forgo lunch altogether. The food tasted of cardboard anyway.

McCoy kept to himself, locking himself away in his office or the labs with paperwork or research. Keeping busy helped keep the voice in his head at bay, helped to distract him from the feeling that there was someone there, watching him from behind. For the first time in years, he was up to date on all of his paperwork ahead of time, without having to be nagged at by Chapel.

As long as he was alone and busy, he was fine.

Who was he kidding? He was anything but _fine._ Truth was, he was unfit for duty. If Jim, or Spock, or any other member of the crew pulled this kind of shit, McCoy wouldn't have hesitated to pull them from Duty, so why was he any different? He was emotionally compromised under any definition of the term.

He couldn't do it. It felt like his identity, his duty as a doctor was the only thing holding him together. He was Doctor Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the starship Enterprise. It felt like he was going to shatter into thousands of tiny pieces the moment that was taken away from him. It felt like letting Spock win.

McCoy looked up from the sample he'd been staring at for the last half an hour and wearily rubbed his eyes. The nights were just as bad. He'd drowned his sorrows in half a bottle of Jack and it still hadn't been enough. That was the fourth night this week he hadn't been able to sleep, dammit. Every time he closed his eyes, Spock was there waiting to torment his dreams.

He didn't know how much longer he could go on like this. Sooner or later, something was going to have to be break and Leonard had a horrible feeling it was going to be him. That was if he wasn't already broken beyond repair.

A chime from his comm badge jerked him out of his thoughts. Hoping that it was something relatively simple, he headed back to sickbay.

The moment the doors to the main bay opened, he could hear the shouting. The source was coming from the far end amid a cluster of red-shirted security officers. This made McCoy hesitate in the door; his basic instincts were screaming at him to stay as far away from the hubbub as he could. He couldn't stay in the door way forever though. He had to force himself to walk forward, even though each step pained him inside.

In the middle of the crowd he recognised Ensign Taymar as the one shouting, interspersed with Christine's diplomatic tones. He couldn't make heads or tails of what it was about Chapel and one of the security guys seemed to have a handle on it for the moment so Leonard reckoned he had a moment to work out what was going on. He tried to kid himself that it because it was better than charging in blindly and making things worse but really he was stalling; the longer he could stay away from the crowd, the better.

 _It's not too late to run._

Unfortunately, Hendorff chose that moment to turn around and spotted McCoy watching. He broke away from the group and walked over. 'One minute he's fine, eating lunch, the next he goes crazy, screaming and shouting, threatening anyone and everyone that comes near.' The Security Chief explained, shrugging. 'I think he's hallucinating, Doc.'

Right on cue, Ensign Taymar turned away from Christine and shouted angrily at the wall. Now that he knew what to look for, McCoy could see the way that the Ensign paused, every now and then, listening to something that rest of the room couldn't hear. It was a text-book example of not being right in the head. Leonard sighed and quietly asked one of the nurses to fetch him a hypospray.

Approaching slowly, McCoy waved the others away. He couldn't concentrate with them all standing near him. It would be nearly impossible to get Taymar to listen to him when his own body language was so closed and uptight. Thankfully the others got the message and moved to the other end of the bay.

Instantly the Ensign's body language visibly relaxed. He didn't stand down completely but it was a start; Leonard could work with that. 'Talk to me Ensign.'

Taymar looked at McCoy warily, almost out of the side of his eyes, sizing him up. Now that he was closer, the doctor could see vicious scratches down the sides of the Ensigns face that he could only presume that they were self-inflicted, like the ensign had tried to claw a something inside his head.

Ensign Taymar shook his head frantically, 'No, no, you're with them.'

'With who?' Leonard prompted, careful to keep his distance.

'Them.' Taymar hissed, nodding towards the group of people down the far end of the bay. 'They keep saying that I'm sick, but I'm not. I'm not crazy; they just want to trick me.'

Leonard instantly jumped on the opportunity presented. 'Why don't you let me scan you, then?' He suggested. 'Prove to them that you're not sick.'

Instantly, he could see the cogs working inside Taymar's head, trying to work out where the trap was. Every couple of seconds his head would twitch, looking over his shoulder, listening to the thing that wasn't there before going back to debating inside his head.

After several minutes of deliberation, the ensign nodded and moved hesitantly towards the biobed, not letting McCoy, the nurses or security officers leave his sight. Mistrust still radiated off of him in waves as he sat tentatively on the edge and allowed the doctor to start the scan.

As the scan ran, Taymar shook his head back and fourth slowly, occasionally pausing to glance out of the corner of his eye before going back to the repetitive movement. The pace increased as the scan progressed, Taymar growing increasingly agitated with each second that passed.

'No, no, no, you're in on it with them.' The Ensign said suddenly, so quietly McCoy almost didn't hear him. Something in the tone set the doctor at unease; He slowly reached for the hypospray in his pocket as discretely as he could.

If it went bad, Leonard got the impression that it was going to go bad very quickly. The scan wouldn't go any faster, it felt like it was taking an age to run. Taymar's eyes briefly met McCoy's. In them he could see deep-seated distrust and paranoia mirroring not unlike his own from the last few days. He could see Taymar watching him, waiting for him to make a move. His heart quickened.

The tricorder beeped.

Taymar jumped, shoving at McCoy and the tricorder. 'No, no, no. It's a trick. I'm not sick. It's lying.'

Something cold and sharp scratched across his forehead but McCoy jabbed the hypo-spray into the gap, feeling it connect and release its contents. The effect was almost instantaneous; the patient dropped limply to the floor like a rag doll. Leonard stepped back.

Something crunched under foot. He lifted it to see what he'd stepped on and glimpsed broken glass shards on the floor, tainted with crimson smears. It was only then that his brain made the connection and the pain kicked in. Leonard was suddenly very aware of the warm sensation running down the side of his face. His hand instinctively went to his head; it came down stained with more red.

'Are you alright' Christine asked.

Her hand moved towards his head as if to touch the laceration. Leonard flinched away, the hand coming towards him making him instantly panic.

'It's fine.' He snapped. 'Let me know when the scans are finished.'

Christine threw her hands up in exasperation and moved away to attend the patient.

In the quiet confines of his office, McCoy immediately felt bad. He hadn't meant to be that harsh; he'd freaked out. Christine hadn't deserved it, she'd just been trying to help and now he couldn't even give her an apology. She'd want an explanation and Leonard wasn't sure he could give it to her.

Half an hour later he was scrubbing in for surgery. The scans had revealed a parasite in the Ensign's brain. They didn't know where it had come from but chances were Taymar had picked it up on an away mission he'd gone on the previous week. That didn't really matter; what did was that they couldn't leave it in there.

Taymar lay helpless, anaesthetised, on the table in front of him. McCoy prepared to take the first cut.

He should just kill him. That would solve the problem. Forget two hours of surgery. That would be the logical course of action. Destroy the parasite and all trace of it.

It wouldn't even be hard. Cut one centimetre too far to the right, administer one milligram of sedative too much or a drug that shouldn't be mixed. Even a single slice to the carotid artery would do it. McCoy subconsciously weighed the scalpel in his hand; The man would bleed out in seconds and no-one would be able to stop him in time.

The Scalpel slipped from his hand and clattered on the floor.

'Dammit.' Leonard cursed, staring in horror at the blade on the floor.

The thoughts had come from nowhere.

 _Our minds are one._

Christine was giving him a look. Everyone knew that he had the steadiest hands on the ship; Leonard McCoy didn't just drop things by accident. He tried to ignore her gaze and concentrate on the job at hand. He held out his hand for a new scalpel; The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get out of there, away from her prying eyes.

* * *

Leonard's hands shook as he activated the tap in the wash room. He looked up, forcing himself to look at his own face in the mirror. He'd healed the cut with a dermal regenerator; there wasn't even a scar to mark that it had been there. _He_ knew though. _He_ knew how close he had come to killing the man.

The surgery had been a success but he couldn't shake the dark thoughts that plagued his mind. All throughout the surgery, that voice badgering him to _do it_. _Just kill him. Our minds are merging. You're going to get them all killed anyway._

He hadn't been able to get out of the operating room fast enough.

Now, when he looked at his reflection all Leonard could think of was disgust: disgust for what he was, disgust for what he had nearly done and disgust for what he had let Spock do to him. He was pathetic. He was _weak._

The rules had been simple. His sickbay was a place of good, a place of healing. It place of safety for anyone who needed it. Squabbles and fights were to be left at the door. Nothing happened in there without his say so; If you didn't like it you could leave. It made no difference to him if he patched you up before or after you passed out from blood loss, just be prepared for the lecture afterwards.

Spock had violated him, dammit. Spock had broken those rules. Spock had nearly made _him_ violate those rules too. That sense of security the four bulkheads had once given him was now gone. That bastard had stolen that safety from him.

 _I know what you know._

The reflection in the mirror was laughing at him.

How could Leonard run when it felt like he was running from himself? Every corner, every face, every shadow sent him spinning back to that other ship. The universe was spinning out from underneath him. He was spinning out of control.


	5. Cracks in the facade

**Cracks in the Facade**

Apologies for taking so long to update, I've been busy. Thank You for sticking with me and don't forget to review. Hope it has been worth the wait, enjoy!

 **See chapter 1 for warnings and disclaimer.**

* * *

Two weeks after the incident, the weekly senior staff meeting made it impossible for McCoy to avoid Spock forever. He hung outside the meeting room for as long as he could, unable to think of another excuse for his absence that would satisfy the Captain.

He'd waited in sickbay as long as he could, hoping for another last minute emergency that never came. Eventually he was unable to put it off any longer and Chapel had all but shoved him out of sickbay. The closer he got to the briefing room, the harder it got to fight the compulsion to turn around. He paced up and down the corridor outside the briefing room, unable to force himself to enter, even though he was now late.

McCoy felt ashamed. He hated that the bastard had reduced him to this, a mangled broken wasn't just Spock's presence that set his anxiety off any more but the simple possibility that the first officer _could_ be there.

When he finally steeled himself and stepped into the sensor that opened the door, the only seat left was the one he usually sat in, directly opposite the first officer. McCoy barely heard anything said during the meeting with Spock sat just across the table from him. It was close enough that the Vulcan could touch reach across and touch him, if he chose to, before McCoy would know it was happening.

Focusing on not hyperventilating was an all-consuming task.

McCoy knew that the fear was irrational but that knowledge was little help. It hadn't been Spock who'd done it to him but at the same time it had been. Every time he heard his Spock speak, he could hear the other Spock's words inside his head.

 _Our minds are merging, Doctor, our minds are one._

Leonard wasn't okay, he was far from it but pretending to be okay was all he had left. Pretending to be okay was the only thing that was keeping him from being most definitely _not okay_.

He forced himself to take deep breaths. He had to hold on. He couldn't break down here, in front of the entire senior staff because then they would know. No one could know. No one could find out, especially Jim.

McCoy could walk out of their right now, remove himself from duty and put himself on medical leave. He couldn't do that though because that would mean admitting that he wasn't okay, not just to himself but to Jim. Jim would want to know why.

'Bones.' Jim's voice snapped him back to the room. The tone suggested that he'd been trying to get his attention for a while. _Oh hell_ , they were all looking at him. Everyone in the room was looking at him and he had no idea why. Were they were waiting for him to say something? Had he grown a second alien head?

McCoy was the rabbit and they were the headlights. Even if he knew what the question had been, he wasn't sure he could open his mouth without his Lunch making a reappearance. He swallowed. 'Sorry, must have zoned out there.'

'Anything to report from sickbay?' Jim repeated.

 _'_ Everything's fine, nothing to report.' It was the wrong thing to say and Leonard knew it as soon as it left his mouth because Spock was staring at him now as if he was out of his peach-stuffed mind. There was never _nothing_ to report from sickbay but McCoy's mind had completely gone blank. He needed them to stop staring at him dammit. He couldn't think with them all staring at him.

The end of the meeting couldn't have come any sooner. Twice more, Jim had had to repeat himself because McCoy hadn't heard the question he'd been asking.

As soon as Jim finished, Leonard bolted for the door. He second more and he would have made it.

'Doctor McCoy, a word, please' Leonard couldn't help but stiffen at the officialness of his friends words. Maybe he was just being paranoid but Jim never called him that to his face; despite Leonard's protests, Jim had always insisted on calling him Bones.

 _Dammit, dammit, dammit._

He waited until all the other officers had filed out past him before slowly turning to face the Captain, steeling himself for what

'What's going on Bones?' Jim asked. 'You were barely there in that meeting.' Of course Jim had noticed, he should have known it would happen. Despite the external impressions the kid gave, Jim was even more astute than Spock when it came to awareness of his surroundings; nothing ever passed him by.

'Can this wait?'

'No, it can't.' The captain folded his arms stubbornly, making it clear that neither of them was going to leave until he had answer. McCoy had used the some pose many times before when the roles had been reversed. It never ended well when it came down to a battle of wills. Both of them would stubbornly drag their heels in and kicking against each other until more than a little blood was drawn.

'I'm just tired.' It wasn't a complete lie; the lack of sound sleep since the incident was taking it's toll. Leonard couldn't remember what real sleep was like any more; every time he closed his eyes, he could feel him, the other spock, in his head. An unstoppable force, prying into every corner of his mind, leaving no thought unturned. It laughed at him and taunted at him. The same words over and over again.

 _I feel what you feel, I know what you know._

Exhaustion would overwhelm him only to wake up later tangled in sweat drenched sheets. Bile would burn the back of his throat, forcing him to dash to the bathroom where he'd heave up what little he'd manage to eat until his stomach hurt and tears streamed down his face. Each night the same, over and over, again and again.

Lately though, the lines between being awake and asleep were getting blurred. In the never ending cycle of a nightmare that crept into every hour of day and night, Leonard was starting to have trouble telling which was which. He was already well on the accelerating fast track to crazy town.

'Bullshit.' It was stupid to think he could get Jim to drop it as easily as that. As his best friend, Jim knew him better than anyone else in the galaxy. 'Chapel says you've been behaving strangely. You spend all your time locked in the lab and haven't eaten for days. Spock seems to be under the impression that you've been avoiding him.'

'I'm fine, Jim.' McCoy lied. 'Nothing's going on.' He turned to go.

Jim grabbed his arm, causing McCoy to stiffen.

'Let go Jim.' He tried to keep it calm but couldn't help the hint of panic that slipped in at the end, much to his loathing. The compulsion to flee filled every inch of his body. McCoy tried to pull away but Jim just tightened his grip.

'Not until you tell me what's going on.' McCoy couldn't bring himself to answer. The restraint around his wrist was bruising and the tightness all consuming.

A hand tight and binding, forcing him backwards.

 _Our minds are merging,_

He needed to break free.

 _Our minds are one,_

The hands needed to _let go_. He needed to make them _let go_.

 _I feel what you feel,_

Before he realised what he was doing, Leonard swung at Jim. His fist collided with something solid; The crunch was quickly followed by a torrent of blood. The hand's released their grasp in surprise.

As soon as the restraint was gone, McCoy legged it. He ran blindly, not knowing where he was going, just knowing that he had to get _away_.


	6. Shattered into Shards

Thank you for all the reviews and new follows! I appreciate your support and patience. Anyone who's read Of Doctor's and mirrors may recognise pieces of this chapter from Psychological Trauma but I've chosen to take it a slightly different route this time. We're nearly at the end. Please remember to read, review and most of all, enjoy!

 **See Chapter 1 for other warnings and disclaimer.**

 **Warning: Suicidal thoughts may trigger some people.**

* * *

Shattered into sharps

McCoy came to, kneeling on the floor, in the darkness of his quarters, with no idea of how he'd ended up there. The arid taste in his mouth told him he'd thrown up at some point and his muscles ached from exertion. His hands were swollen and he would have put money on the right one being broken.

The last thing he remembered was the Staff briefing. It had been over and he'd been on his way out. Jim had called him back and...and he...

 _Oh hell, what had he done?_

He'd punched Jim and for what?

McCoy had punched people before but it had always been in defence, if not for himself then to protect a friend. He was Doctor Leonard McCoy. He was a healer, he healed people, not beat them up.

 _Our minds are merging._

What had he become? He barely recognised himself any more.

 _Our minds are one._

He'd assaulted not only his Captain, but his best friend. His heart skipped at the word. _Assault, t_ hat was what the bearded bastard had done to him; he was no better than the Spock from that twisted universe.

The security teal would be there any minute to arrest him, to make sure that he couldn't hurt any one else. That was good, it was important. It was important that he couldn't hurt anyone else when he inevitably and irretrievably snapped.

 _I feel what you feel, I know what you know._

The words circled around and around in his head, again and again, over and over as he waited. There was a hypospray in his pocket and he didn't remember picking it up. McCoy didn't remember what was in it either. He turned the comforting metal cylinder over in his hand, savoring its weight against his skin.

It felt like hours later when the door finally chimed. McCoy ignored it; the door wasn't going to stop whoever it was if they were from security. He was surprised it had taken them this long to find him. All they would have had to do was ask the computer and it would betray him in a heartbeat.

'Bones, Open up.' Jim called, banging on the door.

Leonard ignored it, willing Jim to just go away. He couldn't face his friend right now. He wanted, no _needed_ , to be alone right now; alone was _safe._

He'd be sent back to earth at the first opportunity; striking a superior officer was a court marshal offence. Best case scenario was a mental institution, else he was looking at a penal colony but either way, he'd never work as a doctor again.

McCoy had nothing left to lose. The evil hobgoblin had made sure of that.

His hand trembled, the hypospray now less than a centimetre away from his neck.

 _Just do it._

If he hadn't been facing the door and seen it, McCoy wouldn't have registered the door opening. Jim was one of the few people on board from whom he couldn't hide. _Damn Captain's override._

McCoy cringed at the blood adorning the captain's front; the kid must have convinced one of the other medical staff to fix his nose but hadn't changed his shirt. He half expected Jim to be accompanied by an entire security team. That would have been the sensible thing to do but when had Kirk ever been sensible?

Jim stepped forward and a single figure appeared in the doorway behind Jim, taking the Captain's place. A cold sweat broke out all over him. McCoy swallowed against the rising panic.

Maybe Jim was sensible after all.

There was nowhere to run. Spock was standing between him and the only way out of the room. McCoy would have preferred it if Jim had brought the security team.

Spock stepped into the room. McCoy instinctively took a step back, trying to keep the distance between the two of them as long as possible.

McCoy flinched as the Vulcan took another step towards him. The old metal bulkhead pressed against his back. _Our minds are merging..._

'Talk to me, Bones.' There it was, those same three words he'd said himself, just six days ago. _Talk to me._

It just wasn't that simple. Why couldn't Jim get that? It wasn't that simple. His head was like Pandora's box; if he let one thing out, everything would follow and he wasn't sure he could survive that. He was afraid that at the end, when it was over, everything that made him, _him_ , would be gone. All that would be left was an empty shell of a broken man or even worse, a monster like the one that was slowly taking over his head.

 _...our minds are one..._

What if he was irretrievably broken? What if it wasn't something that could be fixed? Maybe he should just save them all the trouble and kill himself now.

'Put the hypospray down, Bones.' Jim pleaded. 'Don't do anything Stupid.'

 _Stupid._ Jim, of all people had the audacity to lecture _him_ on stupid. If the Doctor had been half in his right mind, he would have laughed at the irony of the situation, but he wasn't. Instead Jim's words just made him _angry._ He was a danger to himself and those around him. Why couldn't Jim see that he wasn't being stupid; it made perfect, _logical_ sense. He wouldn't be able to hurt anyone if he just ended it all.

Why did Jim care anyway?

His heart hammered away inside his chest. The urge to flee was overwhelming. He stood there frozen, unable to take his eyes off of Spock.

'Captain, I believe it would be wise if we gave the Doctor some space.' Spock said quietly. 'Our presence appears to be causing him substantial distress.'

'No.' It had been stupid to think Jim would just let it go. He was like a terrier with a bone when he got a bee in his bonnet about something. 'Bones, we're you friends, tell us what's going on.'

McCoy was hyperventilating. He could feel it. He was painfully aware of the bulkhead trapping him from behind. It was the sickbay all over again.

...I feel what you feel _..._

Jim took a step forward. McCoy's fight or flight instincts kicked into overdrive. Any closer and the captain would be able touch him. He didn't want that, not after last time.

… _I know what you know..._

'Stop.' He ordered, both to Jim and the voice inside his head. McCoy pointed the hypospray outwards as a weapon, daring Jim to come any closer. He didn't know when he'd picked it up or what was in it. Neither for that matter did Jim.

Jim took a step back, holding his hands up in defence. 'Okay, okay, I get the message.'

'Doctor McCoy, drop the hypospray so we can talk about this logically.' Spock said calmly, still in front of the door. Damn emotionless Vulcan's. The other Spock had been calm too. He'd sounded just like him.

 _...Our minds are merging, our minds are one..._

'Shut up, Dammit!' Leonard shouted, keeping the hypospray up. He couldn't think. That voice forcing his way into his head, like needles drilling into his skull. He couldn't think straight.

Spock wasn't perturbed. 'Doctor McCoy, what did my counterpart do to you in the mirror universe?'

McCoy froze. He saw Jim give Spock a look of surprise out of the corner of his eyes but he was too busy thinking the same question. His outstretched arm trembled. _How did the Vulcan know?_

'You're irrational behavior started shortly after your return from the mirror universe, which has led me to conclude that something occurred during your visit to the alternate Enterprise.' It was as if Spock had read his mind, either that or he and Jim were that predicable. 'Furthermore, your continued avoidance of me has led me to believe that I, or more precisely, my counterpart in that universe was somehow involved.'

'Stop.' McCoy pleaded, his voice cracking. His legs felt like jelly underneath him. The band round his chest was tightening, making it harder for his to breath. Why didn't they get it? They couldn't know. It was important that they didn't know.

...I know what you know...

The voice was taunting him. He couldn't think straight.

...I feel what you feel...

Voices demanding.

 _Stop it._

Voices wanting things that they couldn't know.

 _Stop it!_

The hypospray was next to his neck again. He didn't remember moving it.

...Our minds are one...

Why couldn't it all stop?

 _Stop..._

 _...I feel what you feel..._

 _Stop._

He could make it all stop.


	7. Picking up the pieces

Sorry about the delay folks, but here it is, the final chapter. I want to say a final thank you for all the positive reviews and support you have given me to help towards its completion. Even if you haven't said anything, it was nice to know that it was still being read.

Following a comment on one of my other stories, I just want to remind people that I am _british_ and as such strictly use the _british_ spellings, not american ones. My spellings are not incorrect.

I've got a couple of new stories in the works but I don't know when they're going to go up yet, so stay tuned.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please don't forget to rReview and Favourite. Your support is greatly appreciated.

 **See previous chapters for warnings and disclaimer.**

* * *

 **Picking up the pieces**

McCoy watched the stars glide by outside the window.

 _So many stars._

Years ago, back when he'd first joined Starfleet, he'd been so pre-occupied with the dangers of space. To him, it had been disease and danger, wrapped up in darkness and silence. The Enterprise had been a death sentence wrapped up in a metal tin can. Leonard had been afraid of those stars and what they represented, so focused on the dangers outside the ship that he hadn't given thought to those within.

He knew, now, that there were worse things out there, both in this universe and the next; those stars suddenly weren't that scary anymore.

McCoy laughed out loud at the irony. The sudden noise startled both himself and the nurse in the corner. The doctor hadn't made a sound in days, let alone laughed. It was a commotion that sounded alien to him.

He turned his head and went back to the stars.

When he'd picked up the hypospray that day, there must have been a small part of his brain that had still been acting rationally. In all probability, Leonard would have been dead if it hadn't.

It was a relief to finally think without wanting to scream. Spock was still in there, McCoy could feel it, but he was muted, like the rest of the world around him. He still had trouble concentrating but it was in a good way, not like before. His thoughts were all fuzzy and disconnected, not overwhelming and chaotic. Most of it all just passed him by. He couldn't even get himself worked up about the babysitter he'd gained.

An annoying whirring sound right next to his ear startled him back out of his reverie a short while later. Leonard turned and frowned at the offending object. How had Geoff snuck up on him like that? He hadn't heard the other doctor come in.

'How are we today?'

How was he supposed to answer that question, when he didn't know? Shouldn't M'Benga have answered that one for him? Couldn't the doctor tell with that blasted tricorder?

If Leonard was truthful to himself, he was calmer than he had been in days but that probably had a lot to do with the overdose of antipsychotics still working their way out of his system. It was going to take several days for the effects to wear off. Until then, he was content to sit by the window and watch the stars zoom by.

M'Benga wandered off to the other side of the room to confer with Chapel and the other nurse, when it became clear that he wasn't going to get an answer.

McCoy turned back to the stars once more but kept getting distracted. M'Benga and the two nurses were being noisy. He could hear them all talking over in the corner and it was irritating. These were his quarters and, suicide watch or not, he had the right to have some damn peace and quiet in them, if that was what he so desired.

'Y'all can be done discussing me like I can't hear you.' He snapped. 'It's damn rude.' His explosion has the desired effect of them all stopping but now they were all looking at him and that was infinitely worse.

Suddenly embarrassed by his outburst, Leonard focused his attention on picking at a loose thread on his pyjamas. Geoff smiled and shook his head but they did stop talking about him.

M'Benga and the nurse from the previous shift left, while Christine came over to him. The disapproving look she gave the previous nights untouched dinner didn't pass Leonard by but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she just disposed of the old tray and replaced it with a new tray, closer to him.

McCoy was poised to push the tray away when the bowl of grits caught his eye. It didn't look like the same bland wallpaper paste that the replicator usually spat out; Christine always joked that you could use that in sickbay for setting bones. This bowl looks more textured and less grey, almost like it was homemade.

Leonard finds himself tentatively picking up the spoon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Christine smile approvingly. He takes another bite automatically. When he's done, there's still more than half of the food on the tray left but he'd eaten more than he'd thought he would.

Setting the tray back down, Leonard is about to stare back out into the void but he hesitates. He finds himself getting up and before he knows it, the legs underneath him are carrying him towards the bathroom. Splashing water onto his face, McCoy stares at his reflection in the mirror. His face looks haggard and his eyes haunted.

 _What day was it? How many days had it been?_ He'd lost track of time as all the days had blended into one.

His hand ran across the build up of scratchy stubble inhabiting his jaw. He hadn't looked this rough and unkempt in years. The look uncomfortably reminded Leonard of the dark months that had followed divorce and that had had alcohol involved. It disgusted him that he'd let himself go so much.

Subconsciously, McCoy reached for the shelf next to the sink, only to find that his goddamned razor had disappeared. Sighing, he decides to take a shower instead.

When he emerges, Christine is still in the same seat he'd left her in but she's set a clean set of his uniform out on the bed. On top of the stack, in a gesture of trust, lays his razor.

He mumbles a quiet thanks before returning to the bathroom to change.

It was only as he was putting them on that the choice of clothes struck him as strange. It would be a while before he returned to duty and if he was just staying in his quarters or sickbay, pyjamas or sweatpants would do. The uniform just didn't make sense. Something important was obviously happening today which he'd forgotten.

The clothes and a shave made him feel more human though.

Returning to the other room, McCoy found himself standing in the middle of the floor, fidgeting uncertainly. He's not ready to go back to watching stars but equally doesn't know what to do with himself. Sensing his unease, Christine sets her book down.

'Jim will be down later.' She tells him. 'We should arrive at New Vulcan in a few hours.'

 _Vulcan._ Leonard remembered now. They were going to New Vulcan, to see a mind healer. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. McCoy briefly remembered Jim saying something about that when he'd come to visit the other day but Leonard had still been pretty out of it then. The event hadn't been happening right then and there, so his brain had just pushed it to one side and forgotten about it.

It would have been so easy to sink back into his thoughts but now that he knew what was coming he couldn't settle. He kept sitting down only to stand back up minutes later.

'Do you want to go for a walk?' Christine eventually suggested after watching him pace back and fourth across his quarters. Instinctively, Leonard goes to shake his head when he suddenly changed his mind, his fear of leaving the safety of his quarters overwhelmed by the need to disperse some of the restless energy that now plagued him.

Out in the corridor, it's the middle of the shift but the few crewmen that they encounter thankfully keep their distance from the pair. They didn't venture far but walked around and around the deck several times. The change of scene and exertion helps to clear McCoy's head. He was grateful for the distraction.

When they returned, Jim was waiting for them outside the door. He looked relieved to see McCoy up and about but Leonard could't bring himself to meet his friends eyes.

'Ready to go?'

 _No_ , but he was unlikely to ever be. It was something that needed to be done.

Only Scotty and M'Benga were in the transporter room when they got there. McCoy was grateful not to have an audience. He managed to spare a polite nod of greeting to the two men before turning towards the transporter.

He froze at the edge. All he had to was step on. That was how the whole situation had started, with the transporter going wrong and it wasn't like he'd had a whole lot of faith in the blasted things beforehand. His feet were stuck like glue. He couldn't do it. He couldn't take that chance. He couldn't...

The sharp sting of hypospray at his neck made him jump.

McCoy turned to glower at the other doctor for blatant disregard of protocol. _You were supposed to ask._

'Better?' M'Benga challenged, daring him to deny otherwise.

The nod McCoy gave was reluctant. As annoyed as he was, it was only now that Leonard thought about it, that he realised how heavy and fast his breathing had become. He'd been well on his way towards yet another panic attack. It was getting ridiculous.

 _He was being stupid._

Sheer stubbornness carried him forwards onto the platform and before he could change his mind, Jim was saying _Energise_.

The swirling lights formed a cocoon around them and then cleared again just as quickly as they had formed.

In Scotty's place, a single Vulcan stood ahead of them, who Leonard could only presume was the healer that they had come to visit.

The Healer greeted the party but McCoy couldn't bring himself to speak. The sedative in his system let him stay standing where he was but McCoy couldn't stop himself from shaking.

Trying to calm himself down, Leonard ignored the Vulcan and looked They stood in a well kept garden. The warm sunshine was comforting. It reminded him of home. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing himself to once more pay attention to the Vulcan.

'I will not harm you, Doctor.' The Healer said but made no move towards them. Instead, the Vulcan sat down on the ground where he stood, gesturing to the space in front him.

Glancing at Leonard, Jim started towards the Healer and sat down to one side, deliberately leaving the space directly in front of the Healer free. He looked back expectantly at Leonard. 'It's okay, Bones.'

Jim was there. His Captain hadn't left him alone this time; his friend would keep him safe and make sure that nothing happened. There was plenty of space to run.

Eventually McCoy had covered the short space and warily sat down.

'Ready?' The Vulcan asked.

That was the same question Jim had asked but despite the truth remaining the same, McCoy found himself nodding once more.

The Healer twisted his hand into a familiar shape that started moving towards him.

 _He needed to do this, dammit. He needed to get better._

McCoy closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay still and waiting for the inevitable to come, only it never did. He tentatively opened his eyes to see that the fingertips had stopped, hovering just a centimetre away from his face.

The healer just watched him, his hand unwavering. When the Vulcan made no further attempt to move, the message was clear.

The engagement was on McCoy's terms.

McCoy hesitated, the two halves of his head at war with each other. The healer had never forced himself upon the other man, always waiting for the doctor to come to him. He'd never once shown hostility towards him or given reason for Leonard to distrust him. He was afraid though.

The hand waited in invitation for McCoy to make his move.

Leonard leaned forward.

The fingertips connected with his skin.

 _I am not afraid._

 _I am Leonard McCoy._

 _I am one._


End file.
